For eleven days this Easter, your grandparents, Juan and Marce came to live with us. They spent most of their time taking you for long walks around town. Once, down at the port, you were all watching the fishermen come in and unload tons and tons of fish. Someone who your grandfather had met at a bar the night before offered him a couple fresh fish (to eat it any fresher, you'd have to cook it on the boat!) because, well, your grandfather is the kind of guy that those things happen to. Your grandmother mainly busied herself with preparing food every day, cleaning the house, and doing load after load of laundry...because we do laundry every day since you arrived!
Yesterday, on your grandmother's 59th birthday, she went back to her house, 90 minutes away in Mondragon. From the amount of tears she shed when leaving you behind, any bystander would have thought she was terminally ill or going to live on another continent. Both your Spanish grandparents absolutely adore you and spent several hours a day during their stay watching you twitch and grunt...which is what I expect your American grandparents will do when they visit next month. Heck, they already do via streaming video.
This is about as close to a smile as we've managed to capture on film digital media. Personally, I'm not convinced that your facial movement that we see as a smile is really wired to any positive emotion in your little noggin yet. Just like your hand waving isn't meant as a greeting yet.
Insert food here, please!
Happy Birthday, Marce!